Call Me
by rebelrsr
Summary: Tara goes to a club with the Scoobies and finds it isn't quite as boring as she expected.


The music thundered through the club. Bodies, singles, couples, or groups, gyrated in time with the heavy bass beat. Tara sipped her water and tried not to glance at her watch. Again. Goddess-damn Willow and her puppy dog eyes she'd learned from Xander.

"Might have more fun if you joined in." The husky voice didn't bother to compete with the music. It brushed against Tara's ear, and a pair of arms bracketed hers where they rested on the tabletop.

Despite the sweltering heat swirling around them, Tara shivered. That voice. It tickled her ear before traveling along every nerve. "Why would I want to do that? Maybe I'm having fun right here." She focused on keeping her voice steady and unaffected.

Tara shouldn't have bothered. The body hemming her in shook as the woman laughed. "I been watchin' you. One glass of water. Time check every couple of minutes. If all your friends weren't here tonight, you'da had one of them call you with some kind of emergency."

Busted. Tara sighed dramatically. "And you're going to tell me that I'd have more fun with you?"

"Hell yeah." The woman moved away for a second before she took one of Tara's hands and pulled her to her feet with no effort, even though Tara did her best to resist. "I'm the life of every party." A pair of dimples winked as the woman smiled.

Dimples.

Some of Tara's reluctance melted away. Goddess, she'd do just about anything for that smile – and the woman knew it. Her lips twisted into a smirk. "See? You're havin' more fun already."

"I…" What could she say? Tara _was _having more fun than she'd been a minute ago. Rolling her eyes, she pretended to glower. "Fine. You're maybe more exciting than watching ice cubes melt."

The woman's free hand clutched her chest. "Better than ice? That's it?"

Tara winked and fought giggles at the narrow-eyed glare she received.

"Guess I have to up my game then." They'd reached the dance floor. A wall of writhing people blocked their way. Until Tara's companion shoved dancers out of the way. She didn't appear to notice Tara's reluctance, or the way Tara had begun to try pulling away.

The press of people. The music.

"Don't freak." Tara's "savior" pulled her in tight. Goddess. So tight. Tara could feel solid muscles everywhere under the woman's shirt. "Be better if you keep your eyes on me, beautiful. Ain't no one here got moves like me."

As if to show off those moves, the woman pressed her hips into Tara's and…rolled them somehow.

"All you have to do is relax." Deeply carved dimples announced the woman's belief that relaxing would be fun and easy.

She hadn't met Tara before. Relaxing was neither fun nor easy, in Tara's experience. "I'm sorry," she tried to say. The music drowned out her voice. Not that Tara expected to gain her freedom from sexy, muscle-y arms and rocking hips. In fact, her dance partner managed to get even closer than before.

Tara sucked in air laden with overtones of bark and moss. She unconsciously leaned in, following the scents where they were strongest: her partner's neck. The woodsy perfume worked on Tara's nerves as well as a walk in the nearest park.

"That's right." Lips pressed into Tara's hair before sliding to her temple. "Let go. I got you." And she did. Against her will, Tara relaxed into the woman's warmth. The strength of her arms. The feel of her hips and butt as she rubbed against Tara as she danced.

They didn't talk. The woman danced while Tara shuffled her feet and "suffered" the brush of her partner's body. She'd never done this. Trusted anyone the way she trusted this nameless woman. Tara glanced up and caught the woman watching her.

Caught the flash of understanding in her expression. In seconds, they'd left the dance floor. "I'm sorry," Tara said, like a broken record. The music and noise grew quieter as they dodged people and tables on their way to a booth in a darkened corner of the club.

"For what? Not wantin' to dance?" The woman shrugged. "It ain't a requirement. Besides, you had fun for a few minutes."

"I did," Tara agreed. She slid into the booth, and her partner surprised her (again) by sliding in next to her rather than on the opposite side of the table.

A warm thigh nestled against her own. She unconsciously leaned closer, enjoying the press and heat. The flex of muscles beneath tight jeans. "I'd run a mile if you dragged me to a mall." The woman's dimpled smile wrapped around Tara, taking her breath away. "Who the fuck enjoys all those middle-class women with monster strollers running over everything in their path?"

Tara had to giggle at that. She'd been Buffy's shopping companion at the local mall last week – and had the bruised shins from one of those three-child mega strollers to prove it.

A rough, callused finger brushed Tara's cheek as it pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Better than the ice?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "I…I've never…" Tara pressed her lips together and wrestled her thoughts and voice into submission. "I don't like crowds," she said clearly. "And I can't dance."

"I think you're wrong about that last." Turning away slightly, the woman flagged down a passing barback. "Water and a Jack and Coke." When they were alone again, the woman turned to face Tara, bending one knee up onto the bench. "You OK here? We're not so close to the action. Or…" She gestured at the way she was sitting. "Should I move?"

Tara shook her head. "Don't move." In case that sounded too needy, she tacked on a hasty, "Please."

"Wicked." A blush pinked tanned skin. "You let me know if that changes, yeah?"

"Yeah," Tara echoed. Ducking her head, she hid her smile until that finger returned. It pushed relentlessly until Tara looked up.

She stayed that way, chin propped on the woman's finger, until it slid up to her lips. Until it swept back and forth over her bottom lip. "You're beautiful. I've never…" Tara barely breathed as that finger turned into five, each one tracing a delicate pattern over her cheek and jaw. "Tell me your name, beautiful."

Tara no longer heard the music or the shouted conversations. She lost the scent of unwashed bodies and spilled beer. "Tara. Tara Maclay."

"Hello, Tara. I'm Faith." Tara marveled at the difference in sound and feel when the woman uttered her name. Like water tumbling over rocks. The hand on her face slid slowly down to caress her throat, and Tara shifted as pure need coursed through her. "I'm glad you were here tonight."

So was Tara. Completely. Utterly. Overjoyed. Her head fell back in open invitation.

Lips replaced fingers on her skin. Tara shuddered, and she felt those lips twist into a satisfied smirk. "Your heart's pounding, Tara. You want me to stop?" She thought Faith was teasing. Until that question was followed by another. "Am I movin' too fast?"

"No!" Tara reached out and grabbed two handfuls of hair.

Laughter vibrated against her throat. "Glad you cleared that up for me." The kisses resumed. Hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses. Each one placed slowly and deliberately in a line from Tara's jaw to just above the button on her blouse.

Skilled fingers marched in time with those soft lips. Tara was…almost worried about flashing the people in the club as the buttons on her blouse gave way and lips continued down her torso. Almost. Instead of worrying, though, she arched into the kisses and used her grip on Faith's head to pull her in tighter.

Then the magic moment shattered. A phone rang and the kisses turned into cursing. "Fuck! Hang on a minute, Tara." Faith dug into her pocket and yanked out her phone. "What!" she snapped, glaring at a spot over Tara's shoulder as she listened intently. "Now? Can't…"

Tara thought the phone might break as Faith's hand closed around the it.

"Fine. I'll be there." Faith's scowl was fierce as she jabbed a finger against the touchscreen. "I'm sorry, Tara."

Used to chasing the Scoobies through dark cemeteries in order to stop the latest apocalypse, Tara accepted the apology. "It's OK." They both knew it wasn't. Tara ached for more of Faith's kisses. For more _Faith_.

Sliding out of the booth, Faith found the same barback. "Need to settle my tab." She grabbed the pen in the man's apron. "I'll give it back," she told him. Then she turned to Tara. "This ain't over, beautiful."

She took Tara's arm and pushed up the sleeve of her blouse. It took a few tries for the pen to write on the sweaty skin of her forearm. _Call me first thing tomorrow. _Below that, Faith's name and a telephone number.

"Come on. I don't have time to wait for the tab." Faith tossed a wad of bills on the table and helped Tara to stand. "I'll take you back to your melting ice." Her hand was warm and solid against Tara's back as they crossed the dance floor again.

The Scooby Table was still empty; although, fresh drinks and the remains of several plates of appetizers filled the surface.

"If my boss wasn't such a fucking demon," Faith said, "I'd tell him to fuck off."

Tara wrapped her arms around Faith. "I'm pretty good at dealing with demons." Real ones, not that she could tell Faith that.

"Next time. I'll turn you loose on him." Despite the call and the restless energy Tara now sensed in her, Faith's kiss was unhurried. Tara leaned into it. Into Faith. Faith's phone rang again. She didn't answer, but she did pull away. "Don't forget. Call me."

"I promise." Feeling suddenly bereft, Tara watched Faith stalk away and out of the club.

* * *

Tara yawned and rubbed her burning eyes. She was never going out with the Scoobies again. The sun had been rising when they'd dropped her off at her hotel room. Maybe a shower would help. Then coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

She stood under the lukewarm, anemic spray until any hint of warmth was gone. It wasn't until she reached for the towel that Tara remembered.

Faith. She was supposed to call Faith. No! Nonononono! Tara screamed in frustration as she turned her arm over. She'd washed the number off! Her arm was clean and bare. This couldn't be happening!

Slumping into the tub, Tara covered her face with her hands. She was so stupid. Maybe, if she went back to the club that night, Faith would be there. It was her only hope. Tara slowly climbed to her feet, glancing at her arm as if the numbers would magically reappear.

There, in crisp black script, she read: _Faith 555-471-6589._ Tara didn't bother to dress as she raced into the main room and grabbed her phone to call her soulmate.


End file.
